


I (Just) Died In Your Arms Tonight

by doobler



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Action, BAMF Stephen Strange, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 11:20:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15840219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doobler/pseuds/doobler
Summary: Stephen Strange is a hero but sometimes he needs saving





	I (Just) Died In Your Arms Tonight

“What the hell are we supposed to do now?”

Tony barely had his senses about him, a white film still staining the backs of his retinas. He tried to shake it off, to brush away the haze of a figure washed in ethereal light, and staggered to his feet.

“Stephen could be dead for all we know,” Steve pleaded, wringing his hands. “How the hell--”

“Just. Give me a second, okay?” Tony’s voice was stern but his gaze was tender.

The mechanic stroked his goatee in thought, pacing back and forth in tight circuits. The ice-capped based was in an unknown location in the Arctic Circle. They only found their way there with coordinates that were immediately deleted. Nothing was saved to an archive of any kind.

Tony ran a hand through his hair, limp with blood and grime, and let out a gasp.

“My gauntlet!” He held up his palm, showing the piece missing from his armor. “It must've fallen off at the base--”

“Which means--” Steve perked up, eyes bright and wild.

“--I can hone in on its unique signature!”

Tony bolted, adrenaline numbing his aches and driving him forward. He plopped down on the ring of couches at the heart of Avengers Tower’s penthouse. A wave of his hand brought up a matrix of screens, all of which reacted to his touch. As he worked to triangulate the gauntlet’s position, Steve made a call.

“This is Captain America, I'm calling an A-113-114, meet at the top of Stark Tower immediately. I repeat, this is an A-113-114, a jet is required immediately at Stark Tower.”

Tony could hear garbled feedback from across the room. Steve pulled a face, only to immediately disable the comm. He made his way over to the couch, watching Tony’s progress.

“How long?” Steve asked, white-knuckle gripping at the dark colored cushions.

“I dunno, less than ten minutes?” Tony replied.

“Perfect.”

 

&&&

 

By the time SHIELD’s jet landed on the Tower’s helipad, not only had Tony found the gauntlet’s signature, but both men had a long drink of water and two protein bars each. They met the jet with mirror grimaces, jaws and brows set in stone.

“Captain. Mr.Stark,” the agent recited. He looked young, early twenties, with a quivering lower lip and watery eyes. “I’m here to escort you--”

“Listen, son,” Steve puffed out his chest and laid a hand on the agent’s shoulder. “I’m gonna have to ask you very nicely to get out of the jet and stand aside.”

“Captain, I can't do that,” He managed to reply, jutting out his chin. “SHIELD doesn't permit lower level operatives to--”

“I'm gonna ask nicely one more time. And then I won't be as nice.”

The agent let out a pathetic whimper, looking between the pair. Even with his armor battered and fizzling, his skin stained with blood and grime, Tony managed a playful half-smile, shrugging casually.

“I’d listen to him if I were you, just sayin’.”

Steve tightened his grip ever so slightly, a dangerous glint shining in his eyes. When the agent still refused to stand down, he gripped the back of his neck like a mother would her kitten and gently yanked the poor man out of the jet and onto the tarmac. Steve guarded the ramp, arms crossed, as Tony toggled the controls.

“SHIELD will have my head, Captain!” The agent cried, crumpled on his knees. 

“Help yourself to the bar until they come and pick you up!” Tony yelled back.

“There's a really nice 1975 red wine on the very top shelf,” Steve winked with a grin. “I'd highly recommend pouring yourself a glass.”

With that, the door snapped shut and the jet flew off.

 

&&&

 

_ Ice above and cold steel below, the Arctic base was definitely a frozen tomb in its entirety. Breathing came harsh as feet, heavy and lethargic, thumped against metal grating. _

_ “We’ll barricade ourselves here.” Stephen commanded, leading the three of them into a chamber at the end of the hall. _

_ Once inside, Tony made short work of the doors, hacking into the control pad to wrench them shut. At the far end of the room, Stephen was tending to their wounded captain. _

_ “Blood really brings out the color of your eyes.” The sorcerer smiled. The runes around his hands turned spearmint green as he pressed them to torn flesh. _

_ “Isn't it unethical to flirt with your patients?” Steve countered, his grin dopey and starry-eyed. He’d lost a lot of blood and having such a handsome doctor bent over him left him giggly. _

_ “Well, seeing as I've lost my official license,” Stephen smirked, eyes glinting like polished steel. “I can do whatever the fuck I want.” _

_ He pulled his hands away, watching skin and muscle knit back together. The pain would still linger but at least there would be no more blood loss.  _

_ Tony managed to drag himself over to join the other two, turning down the medical assistance with a curt wave. He toggled the nanites in his suit, sealing up a rather nasty gash with a medicinal spray. The trio lay propped up on the floor between alien looking computers and eerie glass displays, focusing mostly on how to breathe and not have a full on mental breakdown. _

_ “Now what?” Tony finally piped up, fiddling with the exposed wires on one of his gauntlets. _

_ “We fight,” Steve replied, dragging a hand down his face. “We fight and either we get out alive or…” _

_ “Or this becomes our grave.” Stephen finished. _

_ “... Man, I'm glad I'm dating not just one Debbie Downer but two.” _

_ They weren't allowed a single chuckle before a sharp pounding came at the door. The metal bent and bubbled, creaking loud enough to deafen anyone nearby. _

_“Any_ **actual** _plan, guys?” Tony asked again, panic leeching into his voice._

_ “Yeah, stay down and I’ll--” _

 

&&&

 

Tony winced as the memories came back to the surface. He tightened his grip on the jet’s controls, sucking air in sharply between clenched teeth. Beside him, Steve offered a sympathetic frown.

“He’s gonna be alive,” Steve swore, reaching out to enclose one hand around Tony’s. “I called in an A-113-114 so this jet is packed to the gills with medical supplies. Straightforward, easy to use, no doctor necessary medical supplies. We’ll have him in here and patched up in no time at all.”

Tony swallowed thickly. He thanked whatever god may or may not exist that both his partners were so level headed and logical. If he'd been alone, things wouldn't have been so smooth.

“In fact, let's make dinner plans,” Steve sat up and that familiar shimmer returned to his eyes. “I want a thick cut juicy burger. Some place where they go heavy on the fries.”

“Really?” Tony shook his head, clicking his tongue in a mocking manner. “No, after shit like this, we deserve a fucking buffet. I want one of those Brazilian places where they bring you endless wave after wave of juicy grilled meats on giant fucking skewers. And wine. So much wine.”

Steve snorted suddenly, trying to stifle a laugh behind his hand. 

“What would Stephen want?’

The captain stopped, his expression hardening a fraction. He inhaled slowly through his nose, leaning back in his swivelling seat.

“He'd want something uncommon,” Tony offered. “Something that doesn't actually exist in a normally functioning society.”

“Fusion cuisine?”

“Yeah, exactly,” Tony shook his head, blinking rapidly. “Like that Chinese-Thai-Vietnamese place where you can get pho lad na and sesame chicken spring rolls.”

“I… Wouldn't debate that option,” Steve smiled. His eyes crinkled slightly at the corners, a single dimple marking his cheek. “They have really damn good iced tea.”

“Oh yes they do. And excellent desserts.”

“... I think they're all fried. Even the ice cream.”

“Did I not just say  _ excellent desserts _ ?”

The duo went quiet, the air a fraction warmer. After a moment, Steve leaned in close, closing his hand over Tony’s. In the fading light of late afternoon, the two rings sat upon Tony’s fingers twinkled, one silver and one bronze. Steve stroked a finger over both, watching the tiny gemstones on either sparkle and shine. Under his glove, Steve’s own rings, bronze and gold, felt a bit heavier than usual.

“We’ll get him back. Safely,” Steve reiterated. “I swear.”

“I sure hope so.” Tony said and the jet lurched forward.

 

&&&

 

_ When the dust settled, Tony couldn't hear anything, only a sharp ringing that made his brain ache. He pushed aside a sheet of bent metal and coughed. Blood and saliva splattered on the floor, making him cringe. Across the aisle, Steve was clawing himself out as well. He looked just as awful as Tony felt, bleeding heavily from a gash above his brow, metallic filaments making his blond locks look ashen. _

_ Stomping into the room was the enemy. _

_ Large automatons, bigger than even a super soldier, with streamlined craniums and crimson eyes. Each one was its own walking arsenal, oversaturated with nuclear powered energy cores and enough weaponry to wipe out a city. The trio had killed so many and yet, they still prevailed. _

_ “Steve-- Stephen--” Tony gargled, hacking up another mouthful of blood. “We need… We have to…” _

_ A hand, warm and solid and capped with red leather, closed itself over Tony’s. He looked up, his heart squeezing in his chest. Steve was smiling, small and private. He gripped Tony’s palm and nodded once. _

 

&&&

 

Tony and Steve hit the ground running, barely waiting for the jet’s engines to power down before they bolted through the snow. They hadn't changed so their skin, scarred and bruised, was partially exposed to the elements. It didn't slow them down even a fraction.

“It should be pretty easy to get inside!” Steve called over the roaring wind. “But we should stay close together just in case!”

“I'm not gonna disagree with that, don't worry!”

The base’s doors opened easily, already having been pried off their frame. Their pace was speedy but careful, a constant thumping of boots on metal that paused at the head of every hall. Tony toggled his HUD, locking in on his lone gauntlet’s signature. The pathways felt familiar, even now after the adrenaline had died, and progress was swift.

“D’you think we’ll have any company?” Tony spoke up, his voice soft.

“Yes,” Steve glanced to meet his eyes. The faintest hint of apprehension shone in his gaze. “But welcome company.”

 

&&&

 

_ The metallic soldiers stepped forward, their movements sure and resolute. Tony wanted to close his eyes, to be blind to his fate, but he held Steve’s gaze instead. If they were going out, it'd be together. _

_ Just then, a shimmering light came from behind them. Stephen rose from the debris, palms outstretched and raised upwards. His eyes were white, pupiless, and shone like twin suns. Tony winced at his brilliance though hope surged from deep within his gut. _

_ “ _ **I think not.** _ ” He echoed in a voice like the inky dark depths of space. _

_ A matrix of pentagrams carved into the very air, glowing white then blood red. A whine, much like the Iron Man’s repulsors, slowly crescendoed until wave after wave of pure humming energy ripped through the room. It tore the automatons to shreds, obliterating every last atom into nothingness. Another wave of the machines marched through the door, only to be wiped out of reality itself in mere moments. _

_ “Stephen!” Tony called, pulling one hand from Steve’s to reach outward. _

_ For a moment, he could've sworn he saw the sorcerer glance downwards, a melancholy smile on his blood-streaked lips. _

_ A portal opened beneath Tony and Steve and, in the blink of an eye, they were at Avengers Tower. _

 

&&&

 

They knew they were close when they had to start stepping over holes.

Gaps had been torn through the metal, long stretches of seared concrete lining the walls. There were no bodies to account for, no steaming metal chassis to spit on. The only inclination that the automatons had ever been was the faint smell of burnt steel that wafted through the air.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve mumbled, tracing one of the more prominent scars with his fingertips. “Stephen really did a number on this place.”

Tony didn't reply. He was too focused on where he was walking and holding back the bile that surged up his throat. He clenched his teeth, making his own path.

Finally, they reached the door.

Ducking inside, the pair tried their best to reel in their emotions. Stephen was there, propped up against one of the remaining consoles. His eyes were closed, his skin ashen and stark white, but he was breathing. It was slow, drawn out breaths that made his lungs wheeze and his ribs shudder. Tony and Steve rushed to his side, checking every inch of his body for mortal wounds.

“Finally…” Stephen huffed, a small smile on his face. “You guys… Took for-everrr…”

“Yeah, well not all of us can teleport,” Steve beamed, cupping his cheek gingerly. “We've got a jet for you just outside, alright? Just a little further, we're almost there.”

Tony watched, paralyzed, as Steve very slowly lifted the sorcerer, cradling him in the protective swell of his arms. He made sure not to jostle any limbs, folding long legs to keep them elevated.

“Tony? Tony, let's go.”

Steve crouched, his features soft, his eyes swimming with sympathy. Tony met his gaze, visibly struggling to stay calm.

“You're strong,” Steve urged. “You both are. We made it. We’ll be okay. But we need to get outta here first. I’m right here. I promise.”

Tony nodded numbly, struggling onto his feet. His stride was unsure but constant as he followed Steve out of the icy tomb and back into familiar sanctuary.

 

&&&

 

The jet hummed quietly as it blazed across the water, kicking up a curtain of salty spray. Tony’s white-knuckle grip kept the flight smooth. When he was sure they were a safe distance from the Arctic base, he eased up slightly, switching the controls to autopilot.

“There we go,” Steve crooned, leaning over the jet’s single double-wide cot. Stephen looked miniscule curled up on it. “That IV shot should get you nice and stable in no time until we can get you some real food.”

The sorcerer hummed a reply. He looked exhausted but livelier than he had before. A faint flush of warmth blossomed across his cheeks and his words were less slurred, more lucid. He kept his eyes closed as Steve started cleaning his injuries. Strong steady hands daubed with alcohol swabs at a litany of scrapes and bruises. Every wound was wrapped with care, be it with gauze or bandages. When he was satisfied, Steve pillowed his cheek against the cot’s frame, watching as Stephen gradually fell asleep.

“We're in the clear.” Tony spoke up, breathing his first easy breath in hours.

Steve glanced back at him for a brief moment before lunging for the nearest container. He managed to grab a deep bin for medical waste and heaved into it. Nothing came up, his stomach nearly empty, but the burn of acid in his throat brought tears to his eyes.

“Steve?!” Tony gasped, dropping to the floor beside him.

“I'm fine!” Steve managed between bitter laughs. “Wow. I was so wrapped up in making sure we'd get there in time that I wasn't really… Feeling. Until right now.”

“And it all came up.” Tony’s smile was sarcastic, that playful glint nearly returning to his eyes.

“Well. Nothing actually came up. Thank God.”

Steve dropped the bin, leaning his head into Tony’s shoulder. Their fingers interlaced, holding each other close.

“I love you both,” Tony managed to croak. “I really do.”

“We love you too,” Steve returned, reaching over to curl his hand around one of Stephen’s. “Always have, always will.”

He traced the two bands on the sorcerer’s fingers, one silver, one gold, and they all took one deep breath.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos always appreciated!!!


End file.
